


As I wake

by SassyElfFriend



Series: What Is and What Could Be [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dark Magic, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Napping, Romance, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:49:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22582810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyElfFriend/pseuds/SassyElfFriend
Summary: Our favorite problematic couple enjoys a lazy afternoon with a little nap... and a bit of terrible flirting.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel/Female Lavellan, Lavellan & Solas
Series: What Is and What Could Be [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619122
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	As I wake

**Author's Note:**

> So, if you haven't read the other stories in the series, I would recommend checking them out first. The latter part of this one doesn't make a whole lot of sense otherwise. That being said, enjoy!

The Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, Vanquisher of the rebel mages of Fereldan, and First of the former Dalish clan Lavellan... snored like a congested ogre. 

Solas jolted awake at the sensation of her rumbling sinuses against his chest. The book he had borrowed from the rebellious Tevinter archivist earlier in the day slumped just above where Ellanas’ face burrowed into his lambswool tunic in her slumber. It took him a moment to remember where he was and how the Inquisitor had come to be curled into a cat-like ball between his legs on the couch. 

Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Solas began to recall what he, or rather they, had been doing leading up to their unscheduled nap. Ellana had wandered into his “office” in the castle rotunda shortly after midday. 

He had greeted her warmly, brushing a kiss to her wrist as she laid her hand on his shoulder, but with an air of distraction. He was researching modern scholars' musings on the composition of the veil and its propensity towards weakness in areas saturated with death and strong emotion. It required one to sift through layers of chantry rhetoric to discern fact, a most tedious endeavor. 

The smell of lavender and crystal grace upon her ivory skin caused his mouth to water, as did the feel of her fingers just barely trailing across his collarbone as she continued on to perch upon the settee. It pulled at him. He was barely conscious of his bodies’ movement as it made its’ way to join her, book still in hand. 

He had sat on the side opposite her, the hand still holding the tome aloft draped carelessly over the arm of the couch. Feigning innocence, she had stretched out her legs beside her and leaned against the other arm. The blatant appreciation he gave her shapely figure in repose was immensely satisfying. The fierce grin that stretched from ear to ear came when he mirrored her casual pose, twisting to run his long legs enticingly along hers before settling behind them on the cushions. She had nearly forgotten her ruse entirely, too busy ogling his tall, sinuous body hungrily. 

Clearing her throat and collecting herself to settle in for an afternoon of quiet reading and coy flirtation, Ellana had torn her eyes away from him and down to the object in her hands. She had hastily grabbed the first book she could find in her quarters before making her way down, anticipating needing a suitable justification for her presence. She had cringed internally to see that she had managed to snag a compendium of Dalish lore written by Keeper Gisharel. Sure enough, Solas frowned and hid his distaste in her choice of reading material with a forced cough, returning to sticking his nose between the pages before him. 

It pained her that her Dalsih heritage was so inflammatory to her somewhat suitor. Granted, the tales in this particular work were likely allegorical and not literal retellings of past events. She found it useful in understanding the cultural attitude towards their Creators and, by extension, the society of ancient Elvhenan itself. Surely, he could appreciate her interest when looked upon in that light? 

Her sigh was heavy, now losing her fledgling nerve in playfully seducing the object of her affections. Abandoning the volume on her arm of the couch, her sight wandered towards the larger than life frescos painted with adept care and inimitable style. Following the flow of the pieces as they told the story of the inquisition thus far. Her story. 

The latest panel showed the foreboding silhouette of Adamant Fortress looming over a harsh divide painted simply with the crest of the Grey Wardens on an equally grey backdrop. Down the center of the panel lay a line, presumably the literal representation of the veil, dividing the former elements from the artistic rendering of the fade, complete with a miniature version of the Black City floating amongst a glowing circle bordered by six red eyes. The latter gave her cold shivers and a leaden ball of dread deep in her belly. 

She allowed her eyes to return to her companion on the couch. He was back to laboriously studying his tome, forgetting her presence for the time being. Ellana leapt upon the opportunity to admire his features. Brow furrowed in intense thought and lips pursed in concentration, Solas was the image of a harmless, scholarly mage. His jaw was chiseled into a regal point, accentuating his pointed ears. High cheekbones solidified the look of a mature and noble man, one born and bred to rule had his race not barred him from such upward social mobility. 

Ellana thought to herself that he could be with anyone he desired, regardless of gender or ethnicity. She could imagine droves of swooning ladies, herself among them, and suitors throwing themselves before his feet in a bid for his attention. The bitter thought remained that their world did not deserve such a divine creature to walk freely in their midst for their insulting disregard of a pair of pointed ears. 

The memory of a graveyard swam before her mind's eye. The one they had stumbled across whilst trying to escape the lair of the nightmare demon in the fade. Each of their companion's greatest fears were etched upon the dead stones, for all to see. Many seemed glaringly obvious having known and fought beside them all as she did. Some garnered confusion, some concern. Of course, Solas’ had earned her keenest curiosity. Dying alone? A fissure of guilt and sadness took root in her heart. Had she not made her feelings for him known? Did he truly think she would abandon him to his fate alone? Clearly, she needed to become more transparent in her regard of him. 

Ellana crawled her way to his side of the couch, earning his wary attention. She came to a stop before him on the seat, kneeling and allowing him a moment to adapt to her nearness. He was mildly shocked, but did not push her away as she slid an arm beneath his torso and bent to lay on her side and rest her head against his chest over his heart. The embrace was both meant to be comforting and be a source of comfort. 

Unsure of how to react, he had simply stared at the lovely young woman. What brought this on, he had wandered? She appeared to be trying to soothe him as though he were a wounded animal or a small child. It came as quite the surprise to find himself so soothed. Her body was soft and warm, conforming to his broader shape. The fingers on the hand that had wrapped around him landed on his waist and there began rubbing in gentle circles. The feeling was... pleasant. Not at all ticklish as one might expect. 

The hand not still holding his book came to rest on her side, stroking his thumb in a similar fashion as her own. This had seemed to please her and she nestled into him, resting her eyes and sighing contentedly. They remained that way, silent save for the sounds of their breathing, and settled into the intimacy of the moment. He had returned to his reading, hand still stroking at the swell of her hips. He had believed her to be asleep after several minutes of her closing her eyes and saying nothing. She startled him as she began, in a sleepy voice, to sing a somber old elven song. Her voice, even thick with exhaustion, rang clear and sweet in the air around them. 

Melava inan enansal 

Ir su aravel tu elvaral 

U na emma abelas 

He was surprised once again to recognize the tune she sang. It was from a time not long after the creation of the veil and the downfall of Elvhenan. The new elves of the time would fill the fade around them with the song as they dreamed. It was steeped in the utter sadness of their legacy, but tempered with the purity of hope that Solas found... appealing. 

In elgar sa vir mana, 

In tu setheneran din emma na 

How easy such wisdom comes to those that have not walked among the undying rulers of a forgotten age. How fortunate that they are able to disregard all that has been lost and resign themselves to subjugation at the hands of beings who once approached their ancestors on bended knee. Solas faught against the wave of bitterness rising in him. 

Lath sulevin 

Lath aravel ena 

Arla ven tu vir mahvir 

Her beautiful voice tapered off into restful silence before the song could end. He gazed down and found her expression relaxed and blissfully blank. Sleep had brought her a peace that the world had sapped from her bit by bit. His smile was affectionate and his fingers continued their dance upon her. 

His thoughts too, before he too succumbed to the pull of sleep, fell upon the revelations of their journey in the fade. At times such as those, he was reminded how much of a mystery she remained to him. Every new trait and show of uncommon wisdom and intellect left him reeling. She was...certainly unique in this time. But the allure of the unknown depths of her person still called. Every unanswered question heightened his thirst to know her on a level deeper than he had ever reached with anyone in his overly long life. And her tombstone? 

Solas had drifted to sleep pondering the meaning of the two words indicative of her greatest fear etched in her headstone: The Other. Who, or what, this “Other” was yet remained as one more mystery in the line of Ellana Lavellan. 

His thoughts returned to the present, with the diminutive elf shaking the timbers in the roof with her sonorous wheezing. Hers was a study in contrasts, it seemed. He tried not the chuckle lest he shake her awake before she was ready. Her fair hair, which he had come to appreciate more and more, flopped artlessly in her face, blown out with every exhale before being nearly swallowed up on the proceeding intake of air. Their legs had tangled together in the midst of their little catnap. To his delight, and likely her chagrin upon waking, Solas felt a spot of wetness on the portion of his tunic located directly beneath her mouth. 

Oh, this was utterly comical! 

He could no longer contain his laughter, his own chest now heaving with quiet but uproarious snickering. It wasn’t enough to wake her outright, but it did cause her to issue a soft moan and stretch her tangled legs. During the course of her sleepy straining, her foot managed to tip the copy of Gisharel over just far enough to fall over the edge and land on the stone floor with a resonating “WHAM!” 

Startled Ravens fluttered about in the rookery and squawked in alarm, several taking flight and causing a ruckus for Leliana and her agents to sort through. Dorian could be heard issuing colorful swears in Tevene as the springs of the couch creaked in complaint and Ellana bolted upright and whipped her head about in confusion. The hairs that had been caught in the flux of her breathing were now unceremoniously spit out of her mouth and hung in a wet clump in front of her face. Her eyes were a bit wild and unfocused for several seconds. The rampant confusion painting her features was so endearingly hilarious that Solas grabbed his side as he was wracked with true bellowing laughs at her expense. Realization dawned on her slowly and she reached up in an attempt to tame her wild tresses. Indignation limned her features and she waited with her knees sinking into the couch and her arms crossed for him to cease his mockery. 

His mirth was deep and cathartic. By the time he had settled, he was forced to wipe a traitorous tear from his eye. Ellana was less than amused. Her fingers twitched on her forearms and she glared venomously at her lover. Solas could not prevent himself from playfully ribbing her in this vulnerable state. 

“Sleep well, Lethallan?” 

He was very nearly unable to avoid her strike, clumsy though it was. With a scathing yelp, she made to push his shoulders in retaliation for his teasing, but he was able to grab her wrists before she could land the blow. The momentum from her attack upset her balance and she fell into his chest, her face hovering ever so slightly above his, wrists trapped by his surprisingly firm grip. His chest was still heaving from the aftershocks of his mirth. Their eyes locked, breathing each other in. Ellana caught the scent of parchment, the faint aroma of ever-present plaster, and a nip of something almost like sugar mixed with frost. It was an odd medley of scents, but on him it seemed right and natural. 

She watched his eyes drop to her mouth. It brought back the pleasant memory of their kisses in the fade. Since that encounter, Solas had not returned to her dreams. It felt only right to give him his space to allow him to think things through. But, oh, how she yearned! Yearned to see if he was just as magnetic in the waking world as he was in her lucid fantasy. To know if his taste remained the same or was somehow altered by existing outside of that dream state. To confirm that, as he had swept her away with that second surprising kiss, he was just as capable and willing to have her in the real world. 

It was impossible to say who leaned in first, but they were suddenly nose to nose, a hairsbreadth away from pressing their lips together and answering her most pressing of questions. He could practically hear her silent plea to “please, kiss me already!” Solas took a steadying breath, preparing for what his body instinctually knew was coming next. 

“Ahem! You two had better “leave room for the spirit of Andraste”, as they say. This is public domain, keep things nice and proper. There shall be no exhibitionist lip locking on my watch!” 

Dorian’s exclamatory reprimand was a bucket of ice water on their amorous encounter. Placing her hands on his shoulders, Ellana leaned back and reclaimed her baited breath. Solas’ hands, which had found their way to her hips, trembled at their near miss. He was left just as wanting as his dear inquisitor. They both let out embarrassed chuckles and relaxed, not breaking their embrace fully just yet. His expression was filled with tender devotion. Not wanting to completely lose the moment he draws her in and rests his forehead against hers and closes his eyes to enjoy the closeness of her presence. 

In the name of saving themselves the shame of having the magister interrupt their romantic union, Solas makes a hushed request. 

“Would you finish your song for me, ma’da’ean?” 

Her smile is resplendent. “But of course, lathallin!” 

She shifts to a sitting position very close next to him, feet now on the floor. He keeps one of her hands in his, resting on his thigh. 

Lath sulevin, 

Lath aravl ena, 

Arla ven tu vir mahvir, 

Melana ‘nehn, 

Enasal ir sa lethalin 

They parted shortly thereafter, Ellana being forced to attend a late War Room meeting that left Solas to return to his studies. Before she could disappear into the bustle of the main hall, Solas called out to her one last time. 

“Would you like for me to find you in your dreams tonight, ma’da’ean?” 

She beamed and offered her coquettish reply over her shoulder and under fluttering thick lashes. 

“I’ll be waiting, hahren.” 

***** 

Dead leaves and barren soil of an uncharted area of the fade crunched beneath paws the size of a horses’ head. Fur black as the void and twice as likely to damn you covered the body of the beast. Six intelligent and ruthless eyes zeroed in on the barest movement. Elongated claws ripped into the sickly earth and released a tremendous spray in its wake as the great wolf sprinted after his prey. 

For months he had hunted and searched, finding nothing of his quarry. She evaded his attempts to find her in dreams just as surely as she kept him at bay in the waking world. 

The Exalted Council, which brought an end to the once mighty Inquisition, had adjourned more than three months prior. It was unlikely that the agents of Fen’harel that were subsequently being captured and killed in gruesome fashion had been victims of circumstance. His former lover was on the move, that much was certain. 

The last of his spies who had returned alive had reported a marked change in behavior by the Inquisitor. They claimed that her tactics became cruel and ruthless, her methods extreme, her magic both powerful and dangerous, and her trajectory hazy. It seemed she spared no trust in the ones that had once Graced her company. Not one agent had been able to discern her reasoning or plan beyond taking their fellows and disposing of them when she had finished with them. And no one who questioned her yet drew breath. The spymaster, so far the only exception to this, had barely escaped with her life after daring to redress the Herald for her extreme methods. She was claiming a haze of dark magic had taken her mind and made her savage. None of it added up and his sense of disquiet grew larger with each hour. 

The Dread Wolf found himself asking nearly the exact same question as his burgeoning rival: What was she doing and what was she hoping to find? 

His keen lupine senses detected the signature of her magic from nearby. He turned in that direction, growing tense at the preternatural sense of stillness emanating from the same place. Nothing stirred nor attacked as he slowed and ventured into the heart of this black forest, almost as though he were being permitted entrance to this lifeless place. 

Fen’harel had never seen this area of the fade in his extensive journeys. The trees here bent and knotted, hunched over in postures of agony, blackened husks a breath away from turning into ash and dust. Their roots had turned black as well, pulling at the thread of his memory, although he was certain that he had never seen such sickness as this before. The very air was thick with black smog. It parted for him in a path that turned of its own volition, seeming to guide him by an unseen force. 

He allowed it to lead him to the center of the dead woods. The path ended in a clear space in the shape of a large perfect circle. And from the inky blackness all around, a figure emerged and took shape. 

At first, it seemed barely humanoid. Like the shadow of a person without definition. And then twin points of sickly yellow glowed to life with disturbing clarity. The figure had no mouth, nor any other facial features, and when it spoke its voice resonated with a triad of dissonant voices. It was madness made tangible and was enough to stop the heart of a healthy young man in the prime of life with but a single word. 

“I see you have finally caught our scent, Wolf.” 

Its tone was at one time amused, bloodthirsty, and utterly uninterested in him. Fen’harel sat before the figure, elegantly curling his tail about his legs and meeting the creatures gaze as best he could through the living darkness. 

“You are mistaken, spirit. You are not my prey this night. I’m afraid my senses have misled me in the matter.” 

A sound that was a melodic laugh, an enraged scream, and a heart wrenching sob burst forth from the form before him. 

“Do you not recognize us, Harellan?” 

Fury, disappointment, suffocating despair. The flurry of conflicting, yet harmonized, voices assaulted his senses and caused him to grind his teeth. He struggled to remain diplomatic in the face of his overwhelming disappointment and desire to leave this blighted realm to find his true target. His tail twitched, betraying his irritation, but he was otherwise still. He never took his eyes from the spirit before him. 

“I am sorry if that displeases you, spirit. What is your purpose, that I might address you with the proper respect?” 

The mass writhed and expanded, boiling with unchecked rage for the span of the blink of an eye before it calmed to lazily stretching tentacles. The mass was getting nominally smaller and more defined as it spoke again. 

“There is no name for what we were. Your people took even that from us!” 

The great wolf cocked its head inquisitively. An old enemy then. But which and from what period in the vastness of time did it refer? 

He knew that he must be careful with this spirit. Its’ magic was older than time itself and immeasurably dangerous. 

“I am sorry, lethallin, truly. Why would they do such a thing to you?” 

The being pulsed and the tendrils of dark magic comprising its being whipped about with force. 

“We are not kin to you, Wolf! We have shed our shape and have wandered the drifting roads of the beyond! More years have we seen than there are grains of sand in the desert! We would not bow to your brothers and they could not bend us to their will. Through their collective might we were banished for a time, but we are done dwelling in the dark and dank. We knew a time would come for us to take back that which was once ours. So, we have waited. We have wandered. We have fed and we have gathered our will to a purpose and a form once more. The waking world will join us in our reckoning or they will feed us with their life blood.” 

The Dread Wolf’s blood turned to ice. Losing the tenuous grasp by which he held his emotions in check, he stood up on all four legs and let loose a warning growl. He knew what this spirit was. If it was here, then his plans would be thrown into chaos once more. He would be lucky to escape this encounter alive as it stood. 

All six of the Wolf’s eyes flashed an otherworldly blue. The strength of the power he summoned would have flattened a mountain in the waking world. 

The figure laughed, the triad of voices in agreement on his ineptitude. With a slash of one of its tentacles, it knocked the Dread Wolf away. The force caused him to smash through a dozen trees before coming to a stop. 

More than the force of the hit, the magic that had touched him was bleeding him of his mana reserves. Fen’harel was shocked as it drained so thoroughly that he hovered on the brink of burnout from the single hit. His form flickered. Suddenly, he could not hold onto his lupine shape anymore. He was forced back into his Elvhen body with a crushing weight that winded him and brought him to his knees. 

Solas’ vision began to blur around the edges. If he could not wake himself soon, he could very well die in the fade, thereby killing him in the waking world. 

More mad laughter echoed through the trees. It echoed from every direction, making it impossible to pinpoint the exact location of his stalker. 

“Someone here would like to see you, Wolf. Would you like to come and say hello?” 

He was just able to discern the creeping blackness approaching from his left and turned to face it. He fell back, flat on his ass, as he watched what unfolded before his eyes. 

The blackness shrank, pulled into the center of the shape. As it did, he was able to identify more details of the spirits taken form. Slender arms and shapely legs attached to a narrow frame. Its chest swelled with feminine physique. The points of delicate tapered ears poked out through waist length platinum hair. Its skin paled to an eerily glowing ivory and, worst of all, two hard amethyst eyes blinked open to stare daggers at him. 

“No! Oh, no, vhenan, what have you done?” 

The triad of voices felt infinitely wrong spilling from the perfect bow of her lips. They laughed manically and her head fell back with the force of it. It ended as abruptly as it began and Ellana devoured him with her gaze. 

She prowled around the area where Solas had crash landed, her steps cresting the fallen trees in a movement like water running over river stones. It was sinuous, predatory, and absolutely lethal. 

“Is that what you truly wish to ask me, vhenan?” 

“Who are you?’ 

“I am The Other.” 

The name rang true in his mind's eye. A tombstone in the lair of a nightmare... 

She stopped in front of him and he gaped in horror. How had this come to pass? His shock at seeing her shape blossoming forth from the form of the last remaining Forbidden One left him unable to process anything else. 

“How did they take you, Ellana? Did you strike a deal with the Formless One?” 

Faster than the speed of thought, she was before him. Her left arm, once again whole and unblemished in the fade, grabbed his chin, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. He did not have time to struggle as she slammed the full weight of his body into the ground, leaving a crater on impact. The world turned static around him. He HAD to understand what had happened to her. This explained so many of the changes that had been reported to him. But what did killing his agents have to do with the Formless Ones’ reckoning? He turned his head and spat the blood from his mouth. 

Vhenan, please, what are your plans? Why are you killing my agents- your people!?” 

She turned her back on him and observed the Inky greens and yellows that colored the sky of the fade. 

“I told you once already, Old Wolf, they are not kin to us. Just as you are not our kin..” 

“Ellana, please, lis-” 

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. The skin of his face felt suddenly tight and unnaturally smooth. Reaching with a trembling hand, he felt around the skin where his mouth had been and found it completely gone. He choked on his rising panic, unable to even scream in terror. 

“Your time is up now. We will speak no more of this. Know that we are not so opposed as you might think, Wolf. Our goals touch in ways that will become clear in time. But until then we shall continue our hunt. You are not safe from us awake or asleep. We will have what we seek. Be ready to aid us when we call, Fen’harel, or you will pay with blood like all the rest.” 

A pain like a knife ripping open the skin of his face hailed the return of his lips from where she had banished them. Before he could recover, she was suddenly kneeling next to him, the edges of her face blurry in his sight. Without warning, she grabbed the back of his head, digging in with her razor-sharp nails. He was blindsided yet again as she crushed her lips to his, swallowing his shout of pain. She swirled her tongue around his once before withdrawing and looking down on him with contempt. 

“We’ve had our fun, vhenan. But now it’s time for you to... wake up!” 

With her final hissed words, Solas was thrust from the fade and awoke in a bed tucked away in one of his many safe houses. He groaned in pain, no fear of anyone overhearing, and checked for injuries. He could make out a patchwork of forming scrapes and bruises, but nothing life threatening. 

He lay back down with a moan and covered his face with his hands. The chaos surrounding him only intensified. He had no clue what her plan of action was, only that she intended on using him at some future point to meet her own needs. The mad plans of an ancient, evil, immortal demon. 

Solas stared at the ceiling and resigned himself to continuing on his quest to destroy the veil. How that played into the plans of his nemesis, and how much of the world would be left standing at the end, he truly did not know.

**Author's Note:**

> SO, here is the translation for the song (called Suledin) that Ellana sings:  
> Melava inan enansal   
> Ir su aravel tu elvaral   
> U na emma abelas   
> In elgar sa vir mana,   
> In tu setheneran din emma na 
> 
> Lath sulevin,   
> Lath aravl ena,   
> Arla ven tu vir mahvir,   
> Melana ‘nehn,   
> Enasal ir sa lethalin 
> 
> Translates to:  
> Time was once a blessing  
> but long journeys are made longer  
> when alone within.  
> Take spirit from the long ago  
> but do not dwell in lands no longer yours.
> 
> Be certain in need,  
> and the path will emerge  
> to a home tomorrow  
> and time will again  
> be the joy it once was
> 
> Other Elvish:  
> ma’da’ean: My little bird
> 
> I set out to write all this fluffy, romantic stuff and instead I end up with a seriously dark future subplot. What is happening?!


End file.
